Kiss With A Fist
by newsbians
Summary: A kiss with a fist is better than none.


The pain blossomed across his nose and through his cheeks. It wasn't unfamiliar, he had gotten into fights before, but this time it was different. The punch wouldn't lead to more violence, he knew this. She did too. This jab of pain was a wakeup call, if anything at all. There was silence as he wiped the blood away from his nose and she smiled her famous tight-lipped smirk. The second they met eyes, laughter erupted from the pair. Her laugh was strong and bold, breaking the muggy night air and the thick tension between them a minute earlier. As they both laughed, they could admit it: They were both being unreasonable. She shouldn't have looked through his personal things, especially his drawings. (No matter how good they were.) He never did ask for anything besides her professional name, and she had only helped the Newsies' cause. Jack Kelly and Katherine Plumber were wrong, and they knew it.

"For a second there, Plumber, I's really thought you's was gonna kiss me." Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows. To his dismay, this just drew more laughter out of her, harder than before. When she was done wiping the tears from her eyes, Katherine took a deep breath.

"You really are thick sometimes, Jack. Me? Kissing you? Highly unlikely. And you? You don't want to kiss me." Katherine stated, in her very matter-of-factly way. At this, she began to collect the drawings around her, rolling them into tight tubes and placing them back where they belonged.

Jack reached out and caught her arm. "I's neva said you could take them." He grabbed his drawings back, but Katherine held fast. They both pulled at either end, but Jack ended relenting because he knew if they ripped, they would be gone.

He eyed them warily. "Think, Jack," She snapped the papers before rolling them back into the neat spiral they had been in. "If we publish this, my words, with one of your drawings, and if every worker under twenty one read it and stayed home from work- or better yet, they came to Newsies Square for a rally. A general, city-wide strike. Even my father could not ignore that." Pausing, she stared him directly in the eyes. "Don't make me punch you again."

This caused a small smile to blossom on Jack's face. "We's gonna need somewhere ta print it." He agreed, throwing his hands up in the air. Katherine jumped slightly, triumphant. She grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the ladder of the rooftop.

"There has to be _one_ printing press he doesn't control." She said, again with her trademark 'I know more than you.' tone. Katherine started the climb when Jack stopped her for the third time.

"What did ya mean when you's said you wouldn't kiss me? You's is pretty, I'm pretty, it makes sense!" Jack almost whined, crossing his arms like a small child. Katherine groaned, leaning her head against the cold metal of the ladder. If this didn't compute for Jack Kelly already, then he might never understand.

"Jack…" She began cautiously. Hurting his feelings was _definitely_ not the way to get the artist's drawings. "You know I… like someone else, right? And I thought you liked someone else too."

Jack scoffed. "Sarah? No. She's Dave's sister. Besides, she's a-"

Katherine cut him off angrily. "No, you meater. I like Sarah." To avoid his stare, she glared at the papers in her hands furiously. If smoke could pour out of her ears, she'd be steaming. "Don't talk about my girl like that." She whispered.

He grasped for words, but could find none. "Kath, I-" He bit his lip to avoid saying the wrong words. "Ya know, a lot of us is like that, like, um, Racer? You's probably knew that, though, he tells everyone, and well, some others, like-"

For the second time, Katherine cut him off in interest of time. (The papers would have to come out with the sunrise, she had already done the calculations.) "You?" She asked, pointedly. "And Davey?" Jack's face was telling enough. "Think about it, Kelly." With that, she disappeared down the fire escape with his drawings and a swish of her skirts.

 _The moon. A natural satellite of the earth._

 _Latin name: Luna._

 _No signs of water, life, or atmosphere._

 _Not quite a star, but something like it._

Davey had always heard from his mother that you shouldn't stare directly in the sun, but he didn't know if you could look at the moon without burning your corneas. If it was in fact a danger, then his eyesight was much further gone than it used to be, because he couldn't stop staring. The moon, normally just another part of the solar system, another statistic, fact, and figure, had become a living thing. The craters became scars, the kind of scars you get from just being a human being, like the one on Davey's right thigh from when he burned himself with a hot spoon. The milky white surface was skin, pockmarked and beautiful, just like Ja- some people's was. Tonight it shone so brightly that it seemed to be breathing, pulsing, taking gulps of air just to remind itself that it was alive.

Or maybe David Jacobs was just projecting himself onto a hunk of space rock.

Maybe he was projecting himself onto the moon because another boy was already tied to the ground, to a place called Santa Fe, and the earth didn't seem big enough for the both of them. Space was just vast enough to protect Davey Jacobs and his endless facts about the moon.

 _Jack. A dime-novel cowboy._

 _Believes that Santa Fe can save him._

 _Has no substance, but compensates with style._

 _Someone who gets by with a smile._

Davey knew that staring directly at Jack for too long could hurt you, but not in the burned-out-corneas way. It hurt in the myocardium, the cardiac muscle, the heart. He knew this, and knew it well, because Jack had grinned one too many times in Davey's direction. It left him sitting in the sill of his window, bathing in the bright light of the moon and her always stable, never changing facts.

 _The moon. (Jack.) A natural satellite (Jack Kelly.) of the earth._

 _Latin name: (His perfect grin.) Luna._

 _No signs of water, (Biting his lip.) life, (His clear blue eyes.) or atmosphere. (A warm, calloused hand.)_

 _Not quite a star, (Jack Kelly) but-_

"David?" A soft voice called from his doorframe. Davey turned around, slightly alarmed, but relaxed when he saw Sarah. She looked younger, like she did when they were little kids, in a flowy nightgown and her long hair loose. "Jack's at the door. _Abba_ let him in. Should I scare him away?" She asked, suddenly looking like the older sister he knew and loved well. Protective.

He laughed quietly. "No, no, it's okay. Thank you for asking." Sarah smiled, and winked before softly closing the door. She had found him crying days ago, and demanded he tell her what the issue was. When he had blurted his secret out, ("I like Jack!" He cried, snot bubbling on his upper lip. It was hard for Sarah not to take pity.) Sarah held him gently and confessed her entire hidden relationship with Katherine Plumber, the feisty reporter. They hadn't really touched on the subject since then because they knew it was dangerous to talk about it, but Sarah always gave Davey a look when he got home from selling. The same look Sarah gave when she closed his door. Warning.

The alarm bells still went off in his head when Jack Kelly walked through his bedroom door, twisting his cap between his hands. His hair was disheveled, dried blood dripped down his face, and it looked like the boy hadn't slept in ages. Davey leapt off his windowsill and cradled Jack face in his hands. "What happened?" He questioned, quickly reaching for the glass of water by his bedside. When he swiped at air, Davey raced out of his room. "Hold that thought!"

He came back with a wet rag, a mug of tea, and bandages. "Dave, before you-" Davey shushed him, covering Jack's mouth with the tips of his fingers. Davey wiped the blood away, being mindful of Jack's nose. He made sure the injured boy drank the tea and had no other cuts, bumps, or bruises, before finally sitting back on the bed.

"Okay. What on earth happened, Jack" Davey asked, shaking his head.

Jack, who was still violently twisting his hat, looked like he was going to throw up. "Dave, I…" He trailed off, unsure of what he was going to say next. Davey furrowed his eyebrows together, genuinely concerned now. Jack getting into a fight was one thing, but Jack being at a loss for words was a completely other thing. "Damn it, Dave, I'm crazy about you."

 _Lies from that dreamer,_

 _That dime-novel cowboy._

Davey pushed away, scrambling back into the wall against his bed. Jack's face fell, fell even further than it previously was. "Don't, Jack. Do _not_ do this." Davey hit the wall with a hard thump, and fell off his bed. Jack got up, trying to pick Davey up, when Davey pushed his arms away. " _Stop_." Davey stood, and climbed awkwardly through his window onto the fire escape. By the light of the moon, he ran up the stairs to the roof. He could hear the other boy following him, swearing as he made the unfamiliar sharp turns of the staircase. Taking the last few seconds he had alone, Davey stared at the moon. The pulsing matched his breathing, his gulping, gasping breath. The pockmarked surface winked at him. Jack ran onto the roof.

"Let me explain, Dave. I's- I's didn't even know it 'till Kath told me." Jack walked closer to him, but Davey kept backing up. "It didn't make any sense. I's thought, maybe it was Sarah, maybe it was Kath, but they's found each otha, and it still didn't make any sense," His feet were tripping over each other, he stumbled, but he didn't stop walking backwards. Davey wouldn't let the boy who was always running away from things catch him. "'Till Kath punched me." His back hit the brick wall of a big chimney. Nowhere to go. "It's you, David. It's always been you."

 _It's just because that kind of boy_

 _Must be good at what he does._

Jack was dangerously close. He stood so near that Davey was no longer protected by the moonlight. There was no more clinging to his facts, like the truth about the moon. Just a boy who knew too much and a paperboy with a dream.

Davey turned his head away. "You don't know what you're talking about, Jack. _Please_." Jack walked so close that Davey could smell the newspaper ink that always seemed to linger. The brick was pressed against his back and Jack is practically holding his against the wall.

"I's has neva been more sure of anything." Jack whispered, and feverishly kissed Davey.

 _Jack Kelly. A dime-novel cowboy._

 _Davey Jacobs. The boy with facts of black and white._

 _Latin name: Amare._

 _Lovely name._

"Did you say Katherine punched you?" Davey asked, combing his fingers through Jack's unruly curls. They were still sitting on the rooftop, looking out on the city bathed in moonlight. Jack knew that they would soon have to go help the other Newsies print The Children's Crusade, but he wanted to sit with Davey for a minute. Sit with the boy he loved without interruption.

"Yea, she did. We's was both being dumb." Jack chuckled, and smiled wide when Davey's body rumbled against his with laughter.

"You should tell my sister. She'd get a kick out of that." Davey said, Jack humming in agreement. A moment passed, the heavy air blowing around them. It was just them, their city, and the moon.

A thin voice cut through the air. "Davey!" Sarah called. Davey sighed, dusting himself off and standing up. He offered his hand to Jack, who pulled himself up and into Davey, kissing him hard. Davey's knees went weak for a minute, not sure that he'll ever get used to the idea of Jack loving him back.

Coming up for air, Davey gestured. "Speaking of my sister…" He said, staring to climb down the stairs. Jack followed, stopping him right before they climbed through the window.

"By the way… we's need ta go help the boys with somethin'." Jack sheepishly said. "It'll help move tha strike along. Maybe even end it." Davey smiled, taking Jack by the hand.

"I'd go with you anywhere." He whispered, before entering his room.

 _It's a lovely dream,_

 _Still it seems,_

 _Like the dream of a boy, not a man._


End file.
